


five visits

by writerforlife



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coma, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I promise I'm not too mean, M/M, Poor Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 14:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15317814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerforlife/pseuds/writerforlife
Summary: After using the Infinity Gauntlet, Tony falls into a coma. The most important people in his life come to visit him and have a lot to say.





	five visits

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively titled "I have a lot of feelings about Tony Stark knowing he's loved"

Tony and Steve stand in the middle of a battlefield, the infinity gauntlet between them. The fabric of the universe—space, time, soul, power, mind reality—between them. The other Avengers battling aliens around them. 

“Someone has to wield it,” Steve says breathlessly, swiping his hair from his face. 

“One of us,” Tony replies, flipping up his suit’s faceplate. 

_ This is familiar.  _ How many times has Tony fought aliens, Hydra, or some variation of the two (he’s still disappointed at the lack of Hydra aliens) alongside Steve? Despite the sentiment, this is different. Tony can feel it. The lives of half the universe—Peter’s life, Bucky’s life, a dozen other lives important to him and Steve—hang in the balance. 

“Would we just… put it on?” Steve asks. 

They’ve been fighting, not against, but with each other. Tony had forgotten just how  _ good _ they were together, Iron Man and Captain America. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. Somehow, they reached an understanding. Steve was wrong about the Accords, Tony was wrong about Bucky. It didn’t matter much when important people in both of their lives were gone—they spent too many nights recalling memories of those they lost to keep them alive. Too many nights apart from those people. 

“I suppose.” Tony looks at the gauntlet and remembers how it all began. New York. Loki. A nuke, a wormhole. Perhaps it was even before that. A bomb. A cave. Yinsen. A suit that was never meant to be anything but a way to escape and became more. “What the hell, I’ll do it. I’ll be able to bring everyone back.”

“ _ No _ ,” Steve says. 

“If this is because you think my ego will prevent it from working or something—”

“It’s because I don’t want it to rip you apart,” he blurts. “Tony…” Steve trails off and studies him. It isn’t the same righteous glare he had years ago, but a tortured, thousand-yard stare. There are fracture lines all over him, and Tony thinks the universe has already taken everything Steve Rogers had. The gauntlet would ruin him. 

Tony still has something left to give.

“Right. If something goes wrong—”

Steve makes a strangled noise. “Don’t—”

“—make sure Peter’s safe. You can’t miss him. Yay high,” Tony says, holding up his hand, “in the Spider-Man suit, same material as mine. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid or self-sacrificial. Kind of like you. Don’t blame yourself. Check in on Pepper, too. Make sure she doesn’t remarry too quickly. And God, don’t woo her yourself. I know you’re taken, but don’t get tempted.”

“You can’t…” Steve grabs his arm. “I can’t ask you to do this.”

“Cap,” Tony says. “Steve. Why does it always have to be your ass on the line? Spoiler alert—it doesn’t. And I mean that in the most caring way possible.”

He draws his eyebrows together. “I was in charge of this team.”

“Were you? I thought we had joint custody.” Tony jokes. Tears rise to Steve’s eyes, and he realizes it’s time to stop. “Someone saved my life once and told me to make it worth something. I think it’s time I repay that debt. You know that I started this. I should finish it. Clean up my own mess, you know. Will you let me do that?”

Steve grips his shoulder and exhales. “You can survive it.”

_ Can I?  _ Tony doesn’t say it aloud, for Steve’s sake more than his. If this is it, this is it. He strides forward, through the dust and rubble, then turns around. 

“Seriously, though,” he murmurs. “Pepper. Help her through this. Tell her I’m sorry.”

Steve jerks his head, and Tony continues toward the gauntlet. It should be simple. Put it on, and everything ends. The fighting. The constant worrying about the threat that would come. Aliens thinking they had a right to Earth. Everyone they lost returns. The stones glitter in the hazy sunlight, and somehow, Tony knows that this will end everything. He looks around him one last time. Bruce fights as Hulk. Natasha fights alongside Okoye. Clint is positioned on a ledge with his arrows. Thor wields his axe. Rhodey—God, Rhodey is going to raise him from the dead to kill him again—gives him a strange look, but returns to the fight. Steve watches him mournfully. 

Tony inhales deeply, thinks of Peter, thinks of how lucky he was to have a second chance at life, and puts the gauntlet on over his suit. 

His vision goes white. 

He sees the universe in one frame. 

Everything there was.

Everything there is.

Everything there ever will be. 

_ Space.  _

He remembers seeing what could come when he flew into the wormhole in New York. It’s fitting. This has been his fight, his concern, the worry that drove him to be better. 

_ Time. _

He meets Peter for the first time, but at the same time, Howard tells him he’ll never be good enough; he listens to stories about Captain America as Steve Rogers drives the vibranium shield into his chest; he kisses Pepper as he hires her for the first time. 

_ Soul. _

A life for a life. Who did he love? Who would he give for the soul stone? Who could he bear to give? The answer was nobody. Nobody. He didn’t trust easily, resulting in a small circle of people he loved. 

_ Power. _

He’s in every suit he’s ever built. Yinsen straps him into the beast; Tony can’t help but feel he’s stepping into his coffin. He suits up for the first time after Afghanistan. Nanotech spreads over his body. He builds a suit for Rhodey, for Peter, even for Pepper, just in case. 

_ Mind.  _

His mind has always been his greatest asset. Even with his body stripped away, his brain could sustain him.  _ I am alive,  _ he thinks.  _ Even with this burning, I am alive.  _ He thinks it again and again until it’s the only thing he knows. 

_ Reality.  _

He could’ve had a thousand realities. How remarkable it was that every choice he made led him here, wielding the power of a universe on his wrist. Every decision, every punch, every circuit connected led him here. To save the world. 

_ Don’t throw it away.  _

Around him, people and aliens scream.  _ Only the bad guys _ . Thanos’s army withers to nothing, to dust, to ashes. 

Tony’s heart, his soul, his  _ everything  _ explodes. 

He realizes that  _ wait _ , he really does care if this is it. 

_ I don’t want this to be it.  _

He burns. 

 

#

 

People begin to reappear. 

_ It worked,  _ Steve thinks.

The brilliant bastard did it.

Ashes swirl around him, forming people in black whirlwinds. Loved ones cry out and run to each other, gripping each other’s hands and clutching one another. 

Steve can’t look away from Tony. 

He’s burning from the inside out. White light illuminates his veins, rendering him a creature of pure brightness. Even his eyes blaze, like Thor’s when he harnesses lightning. The gauntlet burns, and from somewhere, Rhodey cries out, but nobody moves toward Tony. Those who can watch with wide eyes.  

_ This should’ve been me.  _ Not Tony. Not anyone else. 

The power of the universe is tearing him apart, and Steve is powerless. He’s seen men and women destroyed by less, but even though the stones have torn apart the Iron Man armor, Tony Stark is still standing. 

“No!” A teenager’s voice tears through the air, and Steve  _ knows  _ who it is. Peter Parker, the kid Tony told him about bit by bit as they worked to built the new gauntlet. The kid who became Tony’s reason for fighting. Before Steve registers what’s happening, Peters sprints past him, a blur of red and blue, and drops to his knees beside Tony. 

Fuck. 

Tony would kill him if he let the kid die.

“Peter!” Shielding his eyes against the white light, Steve runs to him, but the kid turns and lands a punch that sends him sprawling back, and  _ shit _ , he’s prying the gauntlet off. Tony seizes and cries out; he opens his eyes, and instead of his typical warm brown, there’s only white light pouring out. 

“I have you, Mr. Stark,” Peter murmurs. “I’m going to get it off, I’m going to—”

Steve wraps his arms around Peter’s waist and drags him back. 

“It’s killing him!” Peter shouts, thrashing in Steve’s arms. “It’s going to kill him.”

“Not everyone is back yet. He says it’ll stop once everyone’s back.” Steve prays to God that he’s right about that—if he wasn’t, he’d give up the shield for good.

Peter goes limp, so Steve tentatively loosens his grip. When he doesn’t make a break for Tony, he steps away from the kid. Peter watches white light pour from Tony’s body; Steve watches the kid because he can’t bear to watch any longer. Peter’s  _ young _ . Even now. God, he must have been even younger in Germany. How did Steve fight him? 

“He can’t die,” Peter whispers. “He’s—” His voice breaks. “Who’s going to—” He swipes at his eyes, and Steve catches that his suit is _iron._ Truly like Tony’s “He marathons Star Wars with me. Captain America, Mr. Rogers, _please._ We have to get it off.”

_ Do it,  _ something inside of him whispers.  _ Save him this time.  _ He’s failed him time and time again. Pulling the gauntlet off would be easy. 

He can’t. Tony knew what he was doing.

Then, the light goes out. Tony stands statuesque surrounded by rubble, staring straight ahead, bruises and cuts encircling his eyes. Burns cover his arms, legs, and chest but they’re nothing compared to the seared wreckage of his left arm. Biles rises in Steve’s throat, but Peter’s mouth is open in a silent scream. He can’t break. He can’t. 

Tony collapses into a heap. 

Steve knows falling. He watched Bucky fall, let the plane fall from the sky, fell from the helicarrier, dropped his shield, watched Bucky fall into cryofreeze, then watched him turn to dust. Watching Stark fall opens a chasm in his chest. This isn’t like New York. Not like any other mission. Tony has fallen, and it looks very,  _ very  _ permanent. 

Peter gives a strangled sob and surges forward, tossing the warped gauntlet aside and pressing two fingers to Tony’s neck. Steve staggers back into solid weight. He turns and raises his fists, but drops them and nearly sinks to his knees. 

Bucky Barnes gives him a weak smile, eyes filled with tears. 

“Buck.” He can’t find other words, so he repeats his name over and over like a prayer or a song on a broken record.  

“Steve,” Bucky whispers. “Stevie, look at me. I’m okay.”

“Oh, God,” he murmurs, then Bucky’s pulling him against his chest, into his arms. He buries his face in Bucky’s neck, inhaling deeply and thinking,  _ This is what he feels like, this is what he smells like.  _ He doesn’t want to forget. He had started to forget. He wants to crawl into bed next to Bucky and be held against his chest, away from the rest of the world. 

He’s crying, now. 

“Stark,” he murmurs.

“Medics are getting him. Don’t look, Steve.” Over Bucky’s voice, he can hear Peter screaming, can hear Rhodey flying in from his defense position, can hear whispers circulating, can hear medics barking instructions. “Don’t look at him. I have you.”

“Bucky.” His tears soak Bucky’s shirt. “Buck, I let him do it. Why would I let him do it?”

“From what you’ve told me about Stark,” Bucky murmurs, “he probably didn’t give you much of an option. It’ll be okay, Steve. We’ll be okay. He’s alive. He’ll wake up.”

Steve only sobs harder. 

“People wake up from comas, Stevie.” 

He knows Bucky well enough to know when he’s lying to protect him. 

 

#

 

Happy isn’t used to leaving Tony’s side, so he doesn’t. Not when Steve Rogers hauls Tony—bruised, bloody from head to toe, his left arm burnt to hell—into the Compound, Peter trailing them with tears streaking through the dust on his cheeks. Not when the medical team lays him on a stretcher, throwing around phrases like  _ oxygen depletion _ ,  _ blood loss _ , and  _ nerve damage  _ without mentioning what that could mean for Tony. Not when they wheel him toward a surgery room, already pumping him with blood. Only when the doors to the operating theater close does Happy slump against the wall and press his hand to his forehead.

_ Not even after Afghanistan.  _ Tony Stark always refused to be wheeled in on a stretcher. 

Hell, what was he supposed to tell Pepper?

“What happened?” he snaps at Rogers. The captain stares into the operating theater, his jaw clenched and gaze blank. Surgeons are huddled around Tony. Happy doesn’t want to know what they’re doing to him. 

“He used the gauntlet,” Rogers murmurs. “He used it instead of me.”

Happy’s about to ream the guy out, because he knows—he knows  _ everything  _ that Steve Rogers didn’t in Siberia, and he doesn’t forgive easily. Tony stays tight-lipped around the kid and everyone else, but someone had to piece together the fragments. It wasn’t hard to deduce what happened when Tony came back bruised to Hell and Steve fucked off. But Steve’s lower lip is trembling, and he bows his head. Happy sees a tear fall. 

“Go clean yourself up, Captain. I can handle this.”

“Seeing him like this?”

“You don’t even know the type of situations I’ve seen Tony in. He’ll be downright tame in a coma.” Steve chuckles at that.  _ Good.  _ “We had to make rules. It became that much of a problem. No screwing anywhere but the bedroom when I was on duty. I had to say it again when he and Pepper first started dating.”

Steve guffaws. “Sounds like Tony.”

“No decency, that man.” Happy claps Steve’s shoulder. “I’ll see that he’s settled in. Go get cleaned up, Captain.”

And Happy does. They operate on Tony for four hours, and then they haul him to one of the Compound’s medical rooms. Happy watches as they transfer him to a bed. Tony’s too pale. Too bloody. Too bruised. Nurses attach an IV and a host of other tubes, whispering about coma patients and the proper care for Tony Stark. Happy fights to stay on his feet, pinching the bridge of his nose as they debate (quietly, in their world, or maybe they just don’t count Happy as another set of ears) when he’ll wake up. 

Nobody wants to acknowledge the chance that he won’t.

Finally, all the nurses clear the room. Happy drags a chair over and sits next to Tony. “Nice view you have here.” All the walls but the one with Tony’s bed are glass with curtains, letting natural light in and providing a view of a lobby outside the room. Tony had the medical wing made so that the Avengers could have a secure place to recover—Happy knows Tony never planned to utilize it himself. 

“Remember when I was in the bed?” Happy chuckles. “I woke up with my head full of Downton Abbey. You terrified that poor nurse, you know. She never turned the TV off and nearly had a heart attack when I did.”

Tony doesn’t reply.  _ Coma _ , Happy thinks. Even in a coma, though, he looks like he’s smirking. He’s so used to Tony’s stream-of-conscience speaking, so used to listening to him rather than speaking. 

“You’ve come a long way,” Happy says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just going to… um… say a few things. You’re a good man. You have a lot to live for. Pepper’s going to be mad if you die. I’m going to be out of a job if you die.” Happy glances out of the room and groans. Peter’s arguing with Steve, shouting at him while keeping his hands tucked out of view. Happy stands and pats Tony’s shoulder. “I’ll be here, boss.”

As Happy walks toward Peter and Steve, he catches parts of their argument—Steve telling Peter to show him his hands, Peter shouting whatever protest he can at a century-old super soldier, the typical shit that would’ve once blown Happy’s mind but is now just a daily thing. Peter’s a good kid, but even good kids can be stubborn brats.

Especially after nearly losing pseudo-father figures. 

“Alright, kid,” he says, waving his hand. “Hold them out.” 

Peter frowns, but sheepishly offers his burnt, cut, and bruised hands. 

“How’d you do that?”

Peter mumbles something unintelligible, but Steve meets Happy’s eyes with a tortured stare he didn’t know the captain to be capable of. 

“He tried to pry the gauntlet off Tony with his bare hands,” Steve says. 

Peter makes a pained sound. “It was  _ hurting  _ him.”

“What would Tony say about those?” Happy points at the kid’s injured hands, trying to ignore the pain in his own heart. When did he get so attached to the kid? To Tony, even? When did he become a part of the Avengers?

“I heal faster, and Tony can’t say anything right now.” Peter’s  _ because I couldn’t get the gauntlet off  _ goes unsaid, but Happy hears it. 

“Why don’t you get those bandaged?” He’s about to take Peter to a doctor himself before he hears someone call his name.

“Happy?” Pepper rushes down the hallway, hair disheveled for once and face blotchy. His stomach drops as she stands breathless in front of him. Thankfully, Steve moves Peter away as Pepper catches her breath and fumbles for the right words (Happy isn’t sure they exist). “Tell me it isn’t true.”

Happy runs his hand over his face. “Pepper.”

“Where is he, Happy?” 

He thinks of an engagement ring that Tony tossed at him, saying that he bought it ‘on a whim’ and telling him to keep it safe. He thinks of Tony’s stupid smile every time Pepper’s name comes up. He thinks of Tony Stark, growing from from the cocksure young man he was hired to drive around to the person laying in the hospital bed. 

“He’s alive,” he manages to say. 

Pepper’s facade cracks. “Just alive?” 

He doesn’t want to say that even  _ alive _ may not be good enough. “Pepper, he has the best team of doctors, and—”

“Oh my  _ God _ .” Pepper brushes her hands through her hair. “I told him. I  _ told  _ him. What did he do?”

“The gauntlet,” Happy whispers. 

“Jesus. I can’t… he shouldn’t have…” She laughs unhappily. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He watches Pepper go and pretends he doesn’t see her wipe her eyes. He watches Steve sniffle and corrall Peter into a doctor’s hands. He watches Rhodey pace as he talks on the phone, eyes tired. Then, he nods to himself. 

Tony keeps the world safe, but he keeps Tony’s world safe. 

_ They’ll all be here when you wake up.  _

 

#

 

Just because Pepper Potts’s fiance was off fighting aliens didn’t mean Stark Industries could run without its CEO, or so she told herself. Everyone told her to take time off, but she couldn’t imagine sitting vigil while Tony was off. Waiting. She’d done her waiting for him and knew Tony did things on his own time. 

Why would coming out of a coma be any different? 

The night before he’d gone into space, they’d been in bed together, his hands  _ everywhere  _ but mouth still running. 

“Pepper Stark?” he’d said. 

“No,” she’d replied. 

“Okay.” He’d kissed her neck softly. She never expected Tony Stark to be  _ soft _ when they first began dating, but he was. “Tony Potts?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring.”

“Pepper Potts-Stark.” Maybe it was because his lips were traveling downwards and he was a manipulative bastard, but she liked the sound of it. “Tony Stark-Potts.”

“Potts-Stark,” she said, because she was a little shit. It was fine. He was a little shit, too. They both knew what they were getting into from the first day. “Tony Potts-Stark.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” Tony murmured. He tilted his head up to kiss her lips. “At the risk of sounding like a giant sapp, it doesn’t make a difference to me so long as we’re married.”

_ We can’t get married if you die.  _

She all but collapses onto the hospital bed when she goes to visit him in the middle of the night. His chest and arm are still heavily bandaged, nearly mummified, but without his black eye and the scratches on his face, she could pretend he was asleep. 

She tells herself that, but there’s a problem. Even when he sleeps, Tony moves, but now, he’s completely still. Pepper doesn’t like it. 

“Tony,” she murmurs. He’s  _ impossible.  _ Completely impossible. This man has forced her to perform the equivalent of open heart surgery, tested her patience every day, and forced her to watch him destroy himself over and over, but she loves him. God, she loves every inch of him, and she can’t imagine the world without Tony Stark.

He doesn’t move. Of course he doesn’t. Why would he start listening to her in a coma?

“What if I kiss you? Will you wake up?” She presses her lips to his forehead, his cheek, his lips. No movement. 

If her heart sinks a little, she won’t admit it. 

She folds herself along his side, resting her head on his uninjured shoulder and interlacing their fingers. She remembers the first time she met him (she thought he was a disaster), the first time they kissed (she thought they were bound to be a disaster), the first time they slept together (admittedly, not a disaster). 

“Do you know how many times I wished I could walk away from you?” she murmurs. 

It took awhile before she realized Tony Stark wasn’t someone you could quit. He pulled her in and held her close, and every time he did something stupid, he did something ridiculously sweet that reminded her why she loved him. 

“I didn’t think you would ever marry anyone,” she starts. “Including me. It didn’t seem to fit your brand. You’ve changed, Tony, for better or worse.” She laughs, because if she doesn’t, she’ll start crying and won’t stop—she knows that from Tony’s stint in Afghanistan. “You were different after you came back from Afghanistan. It can be different when you come back from this. I think it’s time for you to rest, Tony. You won’t. But we deserve to be safe together.”

And then she lets herself cry. 

She realizes that holding back tears is truly a terrible thing. She thinks maybe, just maybe, she should let Tony see her cry once so that he knows, then decides that’s cruel. He has enough to worry about without her tears. 

“Tears of joy,” she mutters, and a wet chuckle escapes. “Remember when I said that? I was expecting you to be catatonic, but I should’ve known. Well, I hate husband-hunting, too. You’re sentimental despite your best efforts. Come back.” 

Someone clears their throat at the door. She starts to sit up, but Rhodey walks in with the uneven gait he’s had since Germany and holds up a hand. As he sits on the edge of the bed, she sniffles and tries to discreetly wipe her eyes. 

“How are you holding up?” he asks.

“What does it look like?”

He shoots her a sorrowful glance. Through everything, they’ve always been Tony’s two go-to people. Pepper knows that Rhodey recognizes the same thing she does—that Tony doesn’t trust easily, that at one point, he had the option to quite literally hand his heart to them, and both of them have carried that weight. 

“God, Pepper.” He rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I didn’t stop him. I could’ve. He and Steve stood there looking at it for ages, but Steve says Tony wouldn’t let him do it. Isn’t that just like him?”

Pepper sits up so she can be next to Rhodey. “Completely. He didn’t think we’d miss him.” In her mind, she plans a thousand things she can do for Tony to show him how important he is, a thousand ways to tell him how much he means to her. 

“Typical Tony.”

“Want to know something sad?” Pepper murmurs. Rhodey squeezes her shoulder. “I don’t really remember what life was like without him. And I don’t know if I want to relearn. Even when I told myself I wasn’t interested in him like that, he was still my most important person.”

“You’re his most important person,” Rhodey replies.

“We do a good job of sharing him. He gives all his love to everyone.” She nudges his shoulder. “Talk to him, Rhodey. He needs you.”

Rhodey clears his throat and stands. “Another night. Let him think about you.”

Pepper returns to her room, the room that should be  _ their _ room, and lays down, forcing her tears away as she hold her left hand to her chest, ring finger against her heart.

 

#

 

Rhodey remembers searching for Tony ten years ago, praying when he wasn’t sleeping or scanning the desert. When he found him, bloodied and too thin with that fucking  _ thing  _ in his chest, Rhodey knew what had happened. He wish he didn’t. Tony had been operated on against his will without anesthetics, tortured, and threatened, but still managed to escape. Still managed to conceal how bad he was hurting. 

Seeing Tony like this  _ again _ hurts. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to speak to Tony, despite every doctor reminding him that coma patients often responded to loved ones’ voices. But he’s been haunting the medical wing, looking through the window, waiting. 

Tonight, he goes in. 

“You really did it this time.” Rhodey sits on the edge of Tony’s bed, not knowing what else to say. He’s seen Tony Stark in a hospital bed more times than he would care to, but this feels different. Permanent. God, he’d give anything to trade places with him. He’d fly more missions. Fall from the sky again. Teach his legs how to feel again, nerve by nerve. 

Rhodey sucks in a breath.

“I can say this because you can’t shut me down,” Rhodey whispers. “I’ve failed you a thousand times. You can say what you want, and I know you would if you could. I shouldn’t have let them take you in Afghanistan. That’s what started all this. You didn’t have to be a part of everything that came next. You chose to. I should’ve made sure you were okay.” He laughs and smiles to himself. “Although, you bastard, you never let me help. So maybe I shouldn’t take all the blame.” He rests his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I mean it this time. You ride with me from now on. I’m going to make sure no terrorists or aliens get close to you.”

Tony doesn’t move. 

Rhodey sits in silence for a long time. After they rescued Tony from Afghanistan, military doctors shuffled him around, all curious about the glowing device in his chest. Tony had been cagey—still arrogant and charming, but cagey all the same—so when Rhodey captured him in a rare quiet moment, he didn’t speak. Just sat on the edge of his bed while Tony pretended to be interested in twisting the sheets around his fingers. 

“They waterboarded me, you know.” Tony said it casually, like he was talking about his robots. Rhodey forced himself to stay still despite the pain in his chest. Tony wasn’t an ordinary civilian by any means, but he was still a civilian, and his best friend. He wants to fly back to Afghanistan and rip everyone who hurt him limb to limb. “And shit, they were stingy with the anaesthetic, too. If anyone pops this thing out of my chest, I’m done.” 

“Tony,” Rhodey had said.

“Don’t.” Tony had looked away, and Rhodey saw one tear trailing down his cheek. 

So Rhodey stays silent. Waiting for Tony to say something. It’s ridiculous, really. People can’t speak in comas, but Tony Stark has done crazier things. He sits and remembers the good and the bad, all the years they’ve been at each other’s side. Meeting at MIT. Partying together. Tony calling him, perfectly calm, when his parents died, and then breaking down the moment they were alone. Tony crumpled on the floor after Obadiah’s betrayal. Tony saving the world and saving him over and over. 

“You’re my best friend,” he murmurs. “Tones, I wouldn’t be able to replace you. I would’ve worn the gauntlet myself, and I think you have a host of people who would’ve done the same. Peter? The poor kid’s a mess. His hands are healing, thank God, but he tried to rip it off because he saw it was hurting you. I would’ve done the same.”

When he leaves the room, Steve Rogers is leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest and eyes haggard. Rhodey thinks about asking the captain if he was waiting, but there’s no point to the question. Of course he was. They were all waiting, waiting for something that could potentially not happen. 

“How is he?” Steve murmurs. 

“Still in a coma, Captain,” Rhodey replies.

Steve winces. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? He’s still in a coma.”

“Don’t call me  _ captain _ .” 

Rhodey wants to protest, but Steve looks so ragged that he can’t find it within himself. “What do you prefer?”

“Just Steve. Please. Colonel.”

“If you’re just Steve, then I’m Rhodey. Tony would like that.”

Steve looks at the ground and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Hell, it barely reaches the corners of his mouth. Rhodey’s seen survivor’s guilt in a thousand different forms, many made manifest in Tony, but this is a special brand, cultivated over nearly seven decades. 

“He didn’t give you much of a choice, Steve, if I know Tony,” Rhodey says. 

He holds up a hand. “You don’t need to.”

Rhodey grips Steve’s shoulder. “Son.” He can say it, because damn it, even if he’s Captain America, Steve is remarkably young. He’s about to say something about choices and respect, but suddenly, his eyes are burning, and he remembers the raw relief he felt at finding Tony in the desert, at watching him return from the wormhole. “I know. I hate him for putting us through this. I’ve watched him try to self destruct for half my life. You just have to be there, Steve. He always returns.”

Steve grits his teeth. 

“Why don’t you see him?”

“Not tonight, Rhodey.” Steve’s sad smile returns as he walks away. Rhodey glances into the room one more time. Tony hasn’t moved. 

_ You’re going to come back to us. _

 

#

 

Steve never thought he’d live to see the day where Tony Stark was completely, utterly silent. Now that it’s here, he only wants Tony to start talking. 

Irony never fails him. 

“I think you’re just in a coma to spite me,” he mutters to Tony’s unmoving form, still standing. He waits for Stark to open one eye. Smirk knowingly. Hell, he’d take his pinkie twitching—although not his left one. He thanks God and Dr. Helen Cho that Tony still has a left arm. Even if he had lost the arm, he would’ve joked about it and built a new one, because that’s just how Tony Stark is. He’s a fixer. 

Tony doesn’t move.

Steve sits in the chair that’s taken up permanent residence by Tony’s beside. Steve has seen Happy enter and leave, eyes brighter than usual, has seen Rhodey sit motionless in this same chair, has seen Pepper and Peter lingering outside the room. He understands that pain—not wanting to sit by your loved one as they slept, but not wanting to be far. He haunted the hallways of the Wakandan facility where Bucky was in cryo; thanks to Tony Stark, he gets to sleep next to Bucky every night. 

“You should go see him,” Bucky had murmured. “Just in case.”

“He isn’t going to die,” Steve had replied.  _ Not like this.  _ He won’t say it out loud, but he never saw Tony Stark as the dying type. Same with Howard. He always had been and always would be. Having a Stark was a constant. 

Bucky had gone to sleep, but Steve went to Tony’s bedside. Seeing him completely still, completely silent, really is terrifying, like the sun decided to stop rising and setting. 

“You’d be happy to know everyone’s safe and at the compound,” Steve murmurs. “I know you always wanted everyone safe and together. Not like this, though.” Steve thinks of all the damage Thanos still did, all the trauma he brought to the world. All the tragedy they managed to undo. 

Tony doesn’t say anything. Steve doesn’t expect him to. People in comas don’t just wake up, but multiple doctors have said they can hear what’s going on around them, what the people who love them are saying. 

“I don’t know if you want to hear me,” Steve continues. “But I’m here. Buck and I are thinking about staying in New York, probably getting a place in Brooklyn. We could do visits. Double dates, if you want. Me and Buck, you and Pepper. If you’d want that. I would understand if you didn’t.” He pauses. “You don’t know how happy I was to hear about you and Pepper. You two are good for each other. I know how it feels to have someone who balances you.” 

Steve runs his hand through his hair. Everything down to his bones  _ aches _ . He’s forgotten how to rest. How to sleep. If Tony dies, he don’t think he’ll sleep again without nightmares. Tony is Howard’s son, and for all his misgivings as a father, Howard was Steve’s friend. Tony was becoming Steve’s friend again. Steve has only known loss—his mother, Bucky, himself, Bucky again, Peggy, Bucky  _ yet again _ , and now, this. Tony Stark is better than a name on the list of people Steve’s lost in his life.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Steve turns to see Bucky in the doorway, watching Tony with a complicated expression. He approaches the bed slowly and lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder. 

“This could’ve been you,” Bucky says. 

“He wouldn’t let me touch it,” Steve replies. “I could’ve handled it.”

“It nearly ripped Stark apart. I’m so thankful for what he did, Stevie.” Bucky sat on the edge of Tony’s bed so he could face Steve. In the low light, the bags under his eyes weren’t as prominent, the permanent sadness in his gaze lessened. The light from the heart monitor illuminated Bucky’s lined face. “Do you know how much that means to me? After what we did to him, he still chose to protect you the entire time.”

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” Steve rests his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands. “He’s engaged to Pepper, and he told me he wants a kid. He has Peter already. Am I worth taking him away from them?”

“Hey.” Bucky gently pried his hands away from his face. “He made a choice. You’ve made plenty of dangerous choices. He’s strong, and he’s going to come through this.” He cupped his hand around Steve’s face. “Come back to bed?”

“Give me a moment.” Steve stood and looks down at Tony.  _ Wake up, Tony.  _

“I’m grateful to him,” Bucky blurts. “He kept you alive when I wasn’t there to do it, and I won’t forget that. Ever. If he’s meant to come back, he’ll come back.”

He nods as Bucky presses a gentle kiss to Steve’s cheek. Bucky has always known what to say, when to say it. They leave the room together, hands intertwined, Bucky’s shoulder pressed against his, but before they can get to the elevator, Steve spots a huddled mass on the floor. His heart pounds as he pulls away from Bucky, fists raised, but slows when he sees white earbuds and sandy blonde hair. 

“Peter,” Steve whispers. 

Peter startles awake. “Is he awake? Is he—”

“No change.” Steve’s heart twinges as Peter’s face falls. “That’s a good thing.”

“I guess.” He yawns and rubs his red-rimmed eyes. 

“Peter, you should get some sleep. In your own bed. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I can’t.” Peter runs both hands through his hair and peers up at Steve. The kid has cried recently, but was stealthy about it. Steve relates.  “What if he wakes up?” 

Steve hears the unspoken,  _ What if he doesn’t?  _ “I’ll find you personally. Or if it isn’t me, Bucky will. You’ll know.”

“Cap,” Peter whispers, his voice breaking. “I can’t just leave him alone.”

Steve sighs. He knows. God, he knows. He couldn’t leave his mother, even when Bucky berated him that he’d get tuberculosis. He couldn’t leave Peggy. Couldn’t leave Bucky. “Have you eaten anything in the last few hours?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve slept?”

“As much as I can.” 

“Okay.” Steve sees so much of himself in the stubborn set of Peter’s jaw and bright eyes. Suddenly, he’s overwhelmingly glad that Tony found the kid first and set him down a path perpendicular to Steve’s—their personal journeys will meet once at this shared point, at Tony Stark in a hospital bed, and then diverge. “You could go sit with him.”

Peter shakes his head. “I think I’m okay out here.”

Steve wants to tell him that Tony will wake up, that everything will go back to normal. Perhaps when he was first pulled from the ice or became Captain America, he would’ve been able to, but now, the words are stuck in his throat. He can’t promise that Tony will be okay because he doesn’t know. He won’t have any more broken promises on his conscience. 

“Why’d you come to see him?” Peter asks. 

Steve swallows hard. “I made a mistake a few years ago. I missed him afterwards. Tony has always had my respect and my friendship, and I don’t want him to forget it this time.”

“A second chance,” Peter whispers. A tear trickles down his cheek. 

Steve glances at Tony in the bed, at Bucky standing barefoot in his pajamas, hair swept into a bun and eyes bright.  _ A second chance.  _

  
  


#

 

It’s childish and naive to think Tony Stark can’t die. 

Peter  _ knows _ he should know better than that. After everything he’s seen, after his parents, after Ben, he should know everyone can die at any time. Without sound. Without warning. Even with the image of Tony swaying on his feet, the gauntlet smoldering on his arm, before collapsing and not getting up burned into his mind, he tells himself,  _ Tony Stark will not die.  _ Believing the alternative hurts too much; therefore, actually going into Tony’s room is like having his heart ripped from his chest. He lingers outside, watching everyone else come and go from a spot on the floor. He and May have a room in the compound, but he rarely sleeps there. Rarely sees anyone but the people who come and go from Tony’s room. 

Until May comes to find him. 

She doesn’t say anything at first, just sits next to him and takes out one headphone. 

“Have you eaten anything?” she asks. 

“No,” Peter admits. 

“Slept recently?”

“I get a few hours here and there.”

“Have you actually seen Tony?”

Peter sighs and runs both hands through his hair. “Steve asked me the same questions. Who came to see you?”

“I had a fleet of visitors. Happy, Colonel Rhodes, Captain America, and Pepper Potts to boot. All worried about you sitting outside his room instead of going in.”

Peter stares at the ground. “I can’t. I can’t stand seeing him in that bed.” Peter doesn’t want to  _ not  _ see him. It’s that if he goes, it will be admitting that he could be saying goodbye. 

“After everything that’s happened,” May starts quietly, “after all he’s done for you, after all you’ve been through, would you be able to forgive yourself if you didn’t see him?”

Peter looks away from her. If he looks at her, he’ll start crying. He’s been really good about not crying and starting now sounds like the worst idea ever. If he starts, he won’t be able to stop. Not when he’s thinking about Tony laying completely still in a bed, his left arm bandaged and eyes closed. Too much like a corpse. 

“May,” he manages to say before he starts sobbing. 

“Oh, baby,” she whispers, pulling his head onto her shoulder. “I know. I know.”

Once he cries himself out, she leaves him alone. He inhales deeply and stands outside Tony’s room. 

He knows everything Tony has been through. Late-night research yielded pictures of Tony after returning from Afghanistan, much too skinny with an arm in a sling, a video of Tony flying a nuke into a wormhole, dozens of press conferences where he had bruises and scratches. Of course it would take a galactic force to take him down. 

 

Peter walks inside and draws a sharp breath. Tony’s laying completely still, as he has been for over a week. More than anything, he wants Tony to sit up and say everything has been some elaborate prank. Peter wouldn’t even be mad (well, maybe for a moment). 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” he murmurs. He pulls the chair over to Tony’s bed and takes Tony’s right hand. The left is still swathed in bandages. In person, he’s seen Tony energetic, despondent, manic, angry, and everything in between. Never still.

A tear drips down his cheek.  _ How do I stop crying?  _

He thinks of the months after Toomes, after he turned down Tony’s offer to make him an Avenger. He expected that to be that with Tony, but he kept calling, once or twice a week, just to check in. At first, the conversations had been short, filled with  _ how are you _ and  _ you have to keep your grades up _ . Peter kept them that way. He didn’t want Tony to know about the nightmares, the nights where he couldn’t sleep at all, or his budding claustrophobia. 

“You’re allowed to feel however you want about this,” Tony would always say. “I want you to talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me, kid. Say the word, and we’ll get you where you need to be.”

Then, Peter had a panic attack in the suit. When chasing a robber, a building had collapsed right after he stepped outside.  _ A few seconds more,  _ he had thought.  _ And then it would’ve been on top of me. Again.  _

That was that, and the next thing he knew, Tony Stark was next to him on a rooftop, the Iron Man suit parting around him. 

“You’re safe, kid,” he’d said. “Come on. Mask off.” Tony had gently tugged Peter’s mask off. “Alright, Pete. Tell me what really happened with Toomes.”

So Peter told him. Tony had listened, not interrupting once, until his face crumpled when Peter told him about the building. 

“That wouldn’t have happened with your suit,” he blurted.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t blame—”

“I know. That’s the sad part for me. Keep going.”

Even after Peter finished speaking, Tony sat with him on the rooftop until the sun rose, then took him to get pancakes, ordering nearly the entire menu without blinking. After, their phone calls became longer. More frequent. Peter went to visit him at the Compound most weekends.  

“I don’t even know what to say, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers. 

Usually Tony fills that silence. He doesn’t this time. 

“I was terrified when I was dying, but I was so grateful you were there,” he confesses. “I’m sorry I made you see that. Even in the other place, I knew you wouldn’t stop looking for me. I believed in you. A lot of people didn’t, but I always did. I knew you’d save me.”

Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. “When Ben died, I never thought I’d have someone who was like a dad to me again. I didn’t think I wanted to let someone that close again. But you managed it. You’re like a dad. A dad who happens to be a billionaire and Iron Man and a genius. Mr. Stark, if you die, who’s going to help me update my suit? You know? Working in the lab was the best. I never told you, but I rearranged my entire schedule so I’d be free Friday nights. Who’s going to tell me embarrassing stories about Happy? And you  _ promised  _ I could be in your wedding. There has to be a wedding, Mr. Stark.”

Now he’s really crying. He takes Tony’s hand and squeezes it. “Please wake up, Tony. Everyone still needs you. I need you.”

Nothing. 

He sits for what feels like hours. Others come and go, but Peter stays. Something feels on the cusp of changing. He can feel it like he felt death and dust coming for him, coming to take him like it took everyone around him. Perhaps it’s his enhanced senses. Mr. Stark helped him test them, and he knows he feels the universe in a different way than everyone around him. Maybe he can feel things that don’t exist for anyone else. 

“Come back to us,” Peter whispers, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his head. “I’ll be here until you wake up.”

 

#

 

Tony hears them all. 

He’s in a murky orange world where he has limbs that aren’t quite corporeal, eyes that can’t see far, a heart that beats clumsily. He knows he’s on the cusp of worlds, one familiar, one stranger than anything he could imagine, and he has to choose.  

_ I’ll be here, boss. _

Happy was always there. Even as other people floated in and out of his life, Happy stayed by him no matter what bullshit he pulled. 

_ We deserve to be safe together. _

All he wanted to do was keep Pepper safe. To do that, he had to keep the world safe. It always seemed like he was losing one to gain the other. No more. 

_ You ride with me from now on. _

For as smart as Rhodey was, he was a fucking idiot. Of course he kept him safe. Rhodey didn’t fail, even when he thought he did. Tony had to tell him. 

_ I know you always wanted everyone safe and together. Not like this, though. _

Steve never said much. The truth of Steve Rogers laid in what he didn’t say, what Bucky Barnes often translated. 

_ I need you. _

God, Peter didn’t. There was so much he could do even without Tony’s help, but he’d never been able to deny the kid. If Peter said he needed him, then he needed him. He wanted to scream that the kid could do better in the father figure department, that he would be just fine. 

To scream, he needed to be awake. 

Even if he was awake, he wouldn’t tell Peter that. 

_ What purpose is there in waking up, Tony?  _ a voice that sounded a lot like his father’s asked.  _ You can have peace here. _ Tony’s eyes open: he sees laughter and glittering tech and newspaper headlines announcing the end of crime crime; he sees a child with his eyes and Pepper’s smile and Steve Rogers laughing and an older version of Peter in a MIT sweatshirt; he sees Happy chasing after the same child and Rhodey coming for dinner and retiring the Iron Man suit because there’s nothing but peace. Nothing but a happy eternity. It’s waiting for him. All he has to do is close his eyes for good. 

“That isn’t guaranteed,” Tony whispers. 

_ Nothing is guaranteed.  _

“I can build that world for myself.”

_ You can also destroy it.  _

“I’ve been done with destruction for a long time.” Tony smiles to himself, and it’s like the sun’s breaking in his chest. Yinsen told him not to throw his life away, and God, look at what he’s built for himself. “I think it’s time to make my own future.”

 

#

 

Tony opens his eyes. 

Fucking  _ fuck _ , his head hurts. And his legs. His arms. His chest. 

He’s in a bed. He knows that much. When he tries to turn his head, his neck cracks like a bone snapping. Tony groans, but the dryness in his throat turns the sound into a croak. 

Damn. He’s in bad shape.

Might as well close his eyes again. Beauty rest. A nap never hurt anyone. 

Why is he so fucking tired? 

“Tony?” someone says. “Tony. Holy shit. Come on, Mr. Stark, eyes open.”

Peter.

That was Peter. 

Peter was dead. Dust.

Except he wasn’t. He wasn’t, because Tony and the rest of the team moved Heaven, Earth, and a few goddamn planets to bring everyone back, including Peter. He remembered yanking the gauntlet away from Steve, slipping it on, feeling fire take every cell in his body. 

“Mr. Stark, please. You have to open your eyes.”

Tony’s never been able to say no to Peter.

He opens his eyes for good and turns his head. Peter’s leaning forward in a rickety chair, his eyes blown wide and jaw hanging open. He’s too skinny. Too drawn. There are bags under his eyes and his hair is greasy, but he’s  _ alive.  _

“Close your mouth, kid,” Tony rasps. “That’s how you catch flies.”

Peter laughs, a watery, desperate sound. “ _ Tony _ ,” he whispers, wrecked. 

“How long was I out?”

“Two weeks.” Peter rubs his eyes, and now that his vision’s better, he can see how red they are. “I should probably get a doctor.”

“No.” Tony goes to reach out with his left hand, but finds it heavily bandaged.

“That happened when you used the gauntlet,” Peter says. “I came back, and the first thing I saw was you  _ burning.  _ All your veins were glowing white, like fire was trying to get out of your body. Your arm. Steve wouldn’t let me rip the gauntlet off of you." I wanted to. I got my hands on it, but he dragged me away.” 

“Kid, is that why your hands are bandaged?”

Peter swallows hard and looks away, tears coming to his eyes. “I thought I would lose you.”

“Pete,” he murmurs. “Even if you did—”

“ _ No _ .” The kid’s eyes are bright, and  _ shit _ , Tony said the wrong thing. “I’ve lost my dad and Uncle Ben, but I still found you. No more losing people, Tony. I’m done with it. Aunt May, Ned, MJ, you. That’s it for me, and I can’t lose any of you. Please don’t do that again.”

“Jesus, kid.” Tony reaches out with his right arm, and Peter moves to hug him in a blur. The kid wraps his arms around his back and presses his face into his shoulder, trembling all the while. There’s a smart remark on Tony’s lips begging to escape, but he can’t bring himself to say it, not when he nearly lost everything. He inhales sharply and draws Peter closer, then realize it isn’t Peter shaking. It’s him. God, he’s truly shaking. He told himself he was ready to give everything, but he hadn’t been. 

“Kid, I told you not to rush off without—” Happy rushes in, and his jaw drops. 

“Are you stalking the poor boy?” Tony asks. “Jesus, close your mouth. It’s an epidemic around here.”

“You’re awake,” Happy murmurs. “Pepper. I have to get Pepper.”

As soon as Happy walks out, Rhodey and Steve rush into the room breathless.  _ Breathless.  _ A colonel and Captain fucking America, both breathless. 

“Hey,” Tony says.

“You  _ idiot. _ ” Rhodey surges toward the bed like he’s going to punch Tony in the face. “You absolute, goddamn,  _ idiot _ .” 

He hugs him instead. The last time they were anywhere close to hugging, Rhodey was unconscious and his legs were shot. 

“Never knew you to be sentimental, honey bear,” Tony mutters. 

Rhodey pulls back and swats his arm. “Coma. That’s a new one, Tony.”

“I have to keep everyone on their toes. Can’t be too predictable. You going to come any closer, Spangles, or do you have the open-mouth syndrome, too?”

Steve reaches forward and shakes Tony’s hand, his eyes haunted. 

“Stark,” Rogers says. 

“Get in here, you lug.” Tony pulls Steve into a hug, and Steve exhales. “You really are strong. Have you been working out more?”

“It should’ve been me,” he whispers. “I should’ve used the gauntlet instead of you.”

“You can’t live like that. We won. You have your boyfriend back.”

Steve pulls back and chuckles. “That I do. He’s very grateful.”

“Barnes is grateful?”

“I’ve heard him say it,” Peter adds. “At lunch sometimes.”

“You’re friends with Barnes? How much did I miss?”

“Tony.” His heart catches as he sees Happy motion for someone to come in. 

Pepper. 

She presses her hands to her mouth and steps toward the bed, her eyes red. 

Tears rise to his eyes. God. What did he do to deserve her? Even with the pain, lying here surrounded by the people who waited for him to wake up, including  _ Pepper _ , his fiance, fills him with an unspeakable feeling. “Tears for your long lost fiance?” he murmurs. 

He expects her to fire back, but she sobs and rushes forward, wrapping her arms around him. He pulls her closer, relishing her body against his and bringing his hand to her back. 

“Okay,” he murmurs into her neck. “I’m okay, honey.”

“I am never crying over you again,” she says, voice thick. “Ever.”

“Fair. Pep, I mean it this time. I’m retired.”

“You just say that. You aren’t.”

“I most definitely am. I’m only making suits for the Spiderling and providing swag. That’s it, Pepper. Let’s buy a house in the country and have babies. I’ll be a house husband.  _ Time  _ will do another article once you’re pregnant, I promise.”

She laughs, and his heart swells. “You hate the country.”

“I don’t hate babies, though.”

Pepper draws back and sits next to him. Tony glances around the room. Happy, Pepper, Rhodey, Steve, and Peter. These are his people. His  _ family.  _

“You really scared us,” Pepper murmurs. 

He takes her hand and motions for Peter to sit down on his other side. Once he does, he claps his shoulder. Peter smiles, eyes watery, and Tony keeps his hand where it is. Rhodey ruffles Tony’s hair while Happy stands gruffly to the side and nods. And Steve smiles a true smile as Bucky enters the room and takes him hand. 

A tension Tony didn’t realize he had been carrying eases. 

“What comes next?” Peter asks.

Tony smiles. Sun is streaming in through the windows, his pain is easing, and they’re waiting for him.  _ I’m ready. _ “Anything we want, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is such-geekiness for anyone who wants to chat about marvel :)


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